Bo2la Wla Ba2loola?

The hustle and bustle of daily life is after all the muse behind every work of art, and in my case, cartoon. Endorsement much? no.

• I burned my thumb on a halogen lamp as i was studying chemistry, ‘iron’ically enough. You’d think i’d see it coming considering the fact that i’ve been studying that shit for 9 months, but noooooooo. On the bright side, i am now the proud owner of the first microcosmic prototype of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in flesh – pun intended – and i can now give people three thumbs up, considering the fact that i have two right thumbs at this point. I now have a valid excuse to skip my much dreaded detrimental chem final – not that i needed any, but now i can always think, with enough conviction that only memory maiming services would offer as an ego pat, that i would’ve gone had it not been for ‘fate’ deciding that i should lay back because i ‘deserve’ it – on the basis that i can’t hold a pen without shrieking in agony. Yep. Agony agony agony. <snicker> Aaaaaaaaaand, wait for it, i got no fingerprint! I can kill y’all without getting caught. Mwahahaha.

            Well, that’s not that much of a newsflash.

            …Nobody suspects the midget in glasses.

• My friend, who has a final tomorrow, has gone through the entire Kübler-Ross model and invented some transition stages of her own alleviating it into a full-blown psychosis, what’s with talking to people as if they were other people, thinking celebrities have added her on facebook and last but not least, or the least that is, the fact that she’s holding elaborate metaphors linking people to her set of blackberry covers.

• During the course of the last few days, i discovered that my anger issues extend to china, phones and booby trapping pillows.

• Suicide bombing sorts everything. Pathetically enough.

• Apparently taking a migraine pill when you have a headache is like trying to go jogging with one sneaker on. It just doesn’t work that way, and you end up with a bleeding foot and another with a muscle spasm. Gynaecologists treat headaches better than future brain surgeons. Which is not only ironic but just sad.

And you know what I find most funny? When i finally get my sanaweyya magmou3 and i realize that i’m officially screwed, none of this will sound funny anymore. What WILL sound funny is oxygen.

Philip Larkin - This Be The Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

 

But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another's throats.

 

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don't have any kids yourself.

See The Cat? See The Cradle? Exactly.

‘ "No wonder kids grow up crazy. A cat's cradle is nothing but a bunch of X's between somebody's hands, and little kids look and look and look at all those X's..."
"And?"
"No damn cat, and no damn cradle." '

Excerpt from Cat’s Cradle – Kurt Vonnegut.

You Don’t Really Know What You Got Till It’s Gone.

Of Chicks & Conical Flasks.

I’ve always kind of known that being a woman has its powerful pros in getting what you want. Not that I ever knew how to implement it, but needless to say those who do have never failed to instil a sense of awe in me. I’ve always wanted to be able to do that, manipulate what i want out of people…but it never quite worked. I’ve had my phases of blaming it on age, stupidity and last but not least, that i’m probably a dude at heart after all. What’s the point to being a chick if i’m not actively using it? And I don’t mean the bitchy sense. I actually mean emotionally extorting people in a way that makes them feel it is their duty to provide with what you wish and be happy about it. It’s almost a superpower, something you might expect of a science fiction movie where the hero radiates an aura towards creatures and they momentarily start tending to your wishes as if under the imperius curse, and then they feel like they’ve contributed to humanity by making it happen. Like when jean-baptiste made a perfume out of beautiful virgins in ‘Perfume’, and he had two choices:

‘He still had enough perfume left to enslave the whole world if he so chose. He could walk to Versailles and have the king kiss his feet. He could write the pope a perfumed letter and reveal himself as the new Messiah. He could do all this, and more, if he wanted to. He possessed a power stronger than the power of money, or terror, or death - the invincible power to command the love of man kind. There was only one thing the perfume could not do. It could not turn him into a person who could love and be loved like everyone else. So, to hell with it he thought. To hell with the world. With the perfume. With himself. Within no time, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille had disappeared from the face of the earth. When they had finished, they felt a virginal glow of happiness. For the first time in their lives, they believed they had done something purely out of love.’

There are so many rules, to being a chick i mean. Unwritten rules that you’re supposed to inherently know. So many rules that make me feel glitched in every way possible. And not in the way that an update can fix.

It scares me sometimes.

It scares me to know that I’m gonna have to be able to do that at one point of my life, when i know for a fact that I’m enough of an idiot not to know where to start and everything is gonna settle, as always, on blowing up in my face like an acid that you rushed into a conical flask. What i mean is that, if you’re a chick, then you’re intrinsically set to know the rate at which to add that acid. You’re supposed to know that kind of shit to survive. But I don’t. I really don’t. Where does that leave me?

Malignant.

Of Mateys & Davy Jones’ Locker.

Life Lesson #225: You don’t really appreciate anyone till they’re dead. And that’s not gonna change.

Life Lesson #226: “If I didn’t read Mickey Magazine everyday before i go to sleep, I’d murder two people. And I’d enjoy it just as much.” – Dad.

Life Lesson #227: My watch lies to me.

Life Lesson #228: Pirate English makes everything sound better. Even deleting people. Making them walk the plank and condemning them to Davy Jones’ locker is slightly more..digestible.

Life Lesson #229: I’m just a kiiiiiiiid and life is a nightmaaaaaaaaaare, i’m just a kid and i know that it’s not faaaaaaair. Nobody cares cuz i’m alone and the world is having more fuuuuuuuuuun than meeeeeeeeeeee.

Of Jiggly Jars & Powerful Pygmies.

Life Lesson #218: Sometimes being a pygmy comes in handy, like when people use you to sneak out jars and files out of a hospital. None of the giants could see you, and you feel like a super midget with a cape and all.

Life Lesson #219: Maybe you can’t hold someone’s life in your own two hands, but you ‘can’ hold their death. Literally. They’re not that heavy and they smell of formaldehyde. They’re jiggly too. And no, I’m not talking about a dead chick’s boobs. Man I wish I was.

Life Lesson #220: Lying is not that bad. Not all the time. It comes in quite handy sometimes, you just have to be good at it and make sure you’re legit so you don’t get sued by a paranoid cuckoo-head. Oh and did i mention that  you have to know how to do it? Yeh.

Life Lesson #221: Knowledge is power, and power corrupts.

Life Lesson #222: Cooking is a way of showing love; because nothing quite says i love you like the artistic deforming of another form of life by utensils that were formerly used as a medieval form of torture closely followed by slowly dehydrating and frying the last shreds of life out of it as you munch the dead goodness in loving union. Not to mention the fact that nothing quite ruins a facial like pulverized hydrocarbons.

Life Lesson #223: You do not appreciate what you have until it’s almost gone, just like i didn’t know how much i used the ‘m’ letter until my keyboard refused to type it and now i have to punch the life out of it just to write my own name. This goes out to uncles that vicariously live through you and have quite a knack for punching you in the shoulder while still under. My joint doesn’t feel so important now, believe me.

Life Lesson #224: You ask for a blade and all you get is a pepper spray with a pink army print. Moral? Not so sure anymore. Because, well, if life gives  you a toilet pump you just gotta sport it with attitude, pretend it’s a Grammy and hope everybody had a glass too many. Otherwise all you get is a plugged toilet and a bad prop, even by high school drama teacher standards.

Like Father Like Daughter.

Daddy, having gotten back from work and headed off to bed, was a little surprised seeing that i grabbed a torch and ended up headfirst next to him on the bed with my books. He found out when his right heel bumped into my nose.

“Next time, I’d rather you re-locate your nose, i was just falling asleep ya moftareya”

“haha aww sorrryyyyyyy my nose got in the way of your foot, terribly sorry”

“You can turn on the lights if you want”

“Nopies."

Then, half an hour into it, I find him chuckling in his sleep.

“What. Haha what? what?”

“When i had troubles focusing with my work i used to grab my books and study under the bed, under the couch or under my desk. Sometimes I used to grab a cardigan and sleep there too. And when it got too hot i used to put ice cubes on the floor in front of the fan.”

“My god you’re ancient”

“Ana mozz”

Then my mom asked the most pivotal question.

"How old were you? 10?”

“..f Sanaweyya 3amma.”

Of Microwaving Ice Cream and Other Cold Stuff.

Life Lesson #214: They all play the outsider card at one point, and then they start wondering why you’ve changed. Well, excuse me, but when it’s my ego that’s lined up against trivial shit, then don’t be surprised how that equations turns out. Everybody knows which is the constant and which is the variable here. However, it kind of hurts how they ALL end up using the outsider card. It does, but then again it’s my fault. I’m always the outsider.

Life Lesson #215: Never, ever, under any circumstance, microwave ice cream. It just doesn’t work that way.

Life Lesson #216: “You’re gonna catch a cold, from the ice inside your soul.”

Life Lesson #217: Tomorrow’s gonna be okay. Tomorrow’s gonna be just fine. Yes. It’ll be great, and nobody’s gonna get hurt. Nobody’s gonna die. Yep. Nobody’s gonna die. Everything will be okay. Everything will be just fine. Yes. Yep. Aywa.

Life Lesson #213: You don’t need pants for the victory dance, cuz baboon’s better than weaaaaaaaaasel.

Friday The 13th

Life Lesson #210: Don’t ever tell Friday the 13th to bring it on and proceed to call it bitch if you can’t take how it’s like in bitch mode.

Life Lesson #211: Don’t think you’re badass enough to think you can take Friday the 13th in bitch mode.

Life Lesson #212: You can NOT take Friday the 13th in bitch mode.

tb ma yalla kefaya nas tmoot, fekra?

That Box.

I’m not dead yet.

I’m a little dysfunctional don’t you know? if you push me it might be bad. Get a little emotional, don’t you know? You might fool around and make me mad.

I don’t usually write about politics on my blog, but what happened yesterday is downright scary. My mom is slightly freaking out and bringing up the whole immigration topic again. Can someone please tell the salafists to stop doing that because I really really reaaaaaaaally don’t wanna leave? If that’s what a stupid chaotic congregation can do, I don’t wanna see them when they actually start to get the hang of it. That’s 4 churches in 5 months.. I’m hoping my mom’s just tripping.

Why Grandma Is Hotter Than Marilynn Monroe.

Life Lesson #201: It’s not really about stopping the need as it is about shifting the source of its satisfaction, well at first it isn’t, at least. A psychological bypass, if you may. Because choosing to walk away is not the easiest thing in the world, especially when you’re used to being on the receiving end of that bargain, but this is one of those things you gotta do for yourself, to get better, in a way that only radical action can force.

Life Lesson #202: When your grandma has her top on with its insides out and she still manages to think she’s a mozza after you’ve pointed it out, strutting her stuff as she sets it straight, then she’s fit to be an idol more than Marilynn Monroe in all her glory. Now that’s confidence, in my book. That’s also where my dad came from, no wonder there. <3

Life Lesson #203: None of this probably makes sense to you. And oh i’m so glad it doesn’t.

Life Lesson #204: There’s no sense in going out of your way for people, because they wouldn’t do the same for you. Then all you’re left with is a psyche derailment and the knowledge that somebody took a bite out of your cookie. You don’t want that. Hold on to your cookies people!

Life Lesson #205: If Karma’s a bitch then it logically follows that being an asshole is the only way to have good things happen to you. Asking why it has to be that way never helped anybody. Why would you wanna learn how to cook if you live with a chef? But then again the only fair implementation of the whole karma theory that i’ve come across in my 18 years of existence was when my perverted geezer of a twice-removed relative got me a can of pepper spray. I hope he chose his favourite flavour.

Life Lesson #206: I checked my call durations register today. The way my dialled and received call durations were paralleled is, if anything, comforting in a disturbing way. I couldn’t have gotten it to be like that if i tried. It got me thinking. Then i came up with the theory that there are three types of people out there.

Dialled > Received: Those are either businessmen, your average blonde chick or just people who are clingy as fuck.

Dialled < Received: Divas that everybody wants to talk to, somebody who’s temporarily abroad and is a cheap asshole or a 10-year-old whose mom presented with a cell phone as an elaborate tracking device.

Dialled = Received: The people that keep this planet habitable for the sane minority, an autistic, or an oblivious fuck with his automatic redial enabled.

Life Lesson #207: Whoever said that it’s not the mountain we conquer but ourselves has probably never experienced an infarction.

Life Lesson #208:  Hindsight is for people with a backbone.

Life Lesson #209: When three religions, two philosophical concepts, one mythological creature and an Accio charm fail to retrieve your lost glasses; what in the name of loony bins are you gonna do when it’s not the glasses you lose?

Of Cons, Cramps and Chemistry.

My day is upright again! Don’t jinx it tho, go rub off on every wooden surface you can get your hands on or summat. It feels nice sleeping at night. Well, it feels nice ‘sleeping’. Period.

But then again that’s what italian food and chemistry corundum oughta do to you if you give em a chance.

The realization that I’m sitting my sanaweyya finals pretty soon is starting to hit home. It’ll probably let on, so i’d rather not elaborate just how psychotic i’ve become, let you make your own assumptions and hope to god you’re an oblivious moron. K? :)

Waking up at 6 is nice. It’s quiet and chilled, almost de-stressing even. I get me-time, exercise-time, shower-time and coffee-time and still get the day not to start off on the wrong leg. And my head is accepting the transition since i’m usually awake at this time anywho. I’m pretty sure there’s a small partition of it who doesn’t know what the hell is happening tho, and i’d like to keep it that way for as long as i can.

My tummy hurts.

Remember that old vagrant from the older post? The one that fell down and cried and nobody else helped? Yeh, turns out he scammed us. According to the empathetic janitor from the other side of the street, he’s been doing that to people for sometime now and his heart went out to the sight of us jumping to his help. What happened to the world? Emotional extortion has hit the streets now. I don’t regret helping him, i probably would again knowing that he’s pulling my leg, because that’s what it means to be human. But why? Why does it have to be that way?

Arabic songs don’t suck as much as i thought. Well, not all of em. There are a couple who have potential, if you give three of your five senses a break, a lollipop and a local anaesthetic to the functional couple. OR, just watch em sleepless or high. Most of em look like a visual hallucination anyway. What’s with the arm flailing? Unless you’re a genie, that’s not excusable.

What do you do when you wanna cut your hair AND not murder the afro? Hm.

Nah, I’m keeping the afro till it decides to fall off of its own accord. I like having an entity with its own separate willpower nesting on my head. Landmarks me when i get lost, and i get lost a lot. Might save my life one day.

Cramps. Fuck cramps.

Of Fits, Lemons & Audrey Hepburn.

It was a weirdass day, but then again aren’t they all? I’d been studying chemistry for over 14 hours, because that’s the average you have to hit a day if you wanna get a decent outcome sanawyya-wise, and I had one of em infamous break downs. I started laughing hysterically out of the blue for 15  minutes, then simultaneously cried. My dad looked at me like a total nutcase over his coffee and tried to bribe me with ice cream, and my mom confiscated my chem books and promised never to go to sleep and leave me unescorted with chem again. It was interesting, i gotta admit. I must’ve been one hell of a sight.

We left for chem class then on the way back, this old man fell down in the middle of the road. We got out and helped him and he gave us his supply of lemons in thanks. I’ll never forget the sight of him laying down there on the road, crying with his bag of lemons all over the place, his cane on the other side of the road and everybody just drove by without a care in the world. It was not until my dad got out and helped him up and we stayed there till we made sure he’s okay that three or four random people decided to be philanthropists and gave him money and water. Why would people be so cruel? Why, when they can, and might I add without that much of an inconvenience, help someone? He was in pain, he must have gone through a lot and being homeless at that age is just 7aram. Nobody helped him. I can’t believe it. Why wouldn’t they? Why the hell wouldn’t they?

By the time I got back home I'd been sleepless for god knows how long. I watched a bit of Audrey Hepburn’s ‘Two For The Road’ that I downloaded, because old movies have that soothing effect that no antidepressant can quite provide. Life was so peaceful back then, so real. People were happy and grounded. It was not all about sex, religion and getting what you want out of people. It was about people. Real people. I can’t quite explain it but I can’t seem to find that many roaming my vicinity anymore, and I’d rather blame it on the era than my own sanity. Sue me.

I woke up a couple of hours ago, and am not planning to start working before daylight cracks. And I need a shower and a walk. And ice cream, I need ice cream.